


we found true north

by brodinsons (aeon_entwined)



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: (thank you loki), Dubious Morals, Established Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Mpreg, Other, Possessive Behavior, Pregnancy, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeon_entwined/pseuds/brodinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor's carelessness with the intimacy they share prompts Loki to take action and put his foot down. Said actions have unexpected consequences for all involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we found true north

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is not set in any particular 'verse, but rather a hybrid of the MCU and mythology. I handwave a great deal of both canons for the sake of eeking a happy ending out of these two assholes, and I think I may have given Odin a bit too much leeway in terms of dealing with the bros getting up to this much trouble. (It's not explained whether or not they are blood siblings or not in this. That's up to you to decide.)
> 
> MOVING ON
> 
> There is a great deal of talk regarding pregnancy (Loki is not knocked up in this one!) and the results of said event. If the idea of childbirth squicks you out, turn back now. If the idea of an essentially male god retaining his genitalia while developing an additional set from the fairer sex squicks you out, turn back now. Nothing is extraordinarily explicit, but it's not glossed over either. Also, I shall note that most of this was inspired by **[THIS SKETCH](http://lokisergi.tumblr.com/post/34648501649/some-silly-shit-i-drew-for-kimmsauce-last-night)** by the wonderfully talented **[schaudwen](http://lokisergi.tumblr.com/post/34648501649/some-silly-shit-i-drew-for-kimmsauce-last-night)**.
> 
> I'm one of those people who tries to avoid having to cut everybody open as a quicker way out because exploring the facets of childbirth is interesting to me.
> 
> I think that's it! If you've made it this far, enjoy! :)

The first day, he attributes it to spoiled food. Such things are rare enough in the realm eternal but still quite possible.

The first week, he attributes it to temporary exhaustion and remnants of the spoiled food.

By the third week, Thor cannot deny that something is both amiss and intrinsically wrong with his body. He has never been one to suffer from common maladies, even as a child, and there is nothing affecting the rest of the court in the manner that it is him.

After ruminating over his options for some time, he goes in search of his brother. They might be quarreling, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And he would certainly not put it past Loki to have enacted this as some sort of vengeance for their last encounter behind closed doors ending on a rather poor note.

He finds Loki in his chambers, poring over an aged piece of parchment that looks to have been pilfered from the depths of the Allfather’s library.

Loki glances up as he approaches the desk, then slits his eyes.

“I do not require your oafish assistance with anything. Go away.”

Thor sighs, then moves to better place himself in Loki’s line of sight, obstinately refusing to be ignored (though he rarely ever is, come to think of it).

“I would have words with you.”

“And if _I_ do not wish to have words with you?” Loki counters archly.

He growls quietly, then points at his brother. “I have been ill for over three weeks, brother. Every morning, without fail. I know this is your doing and I would have you explain why you chose this method of vengeance so that I might apologize for my transgressions.”

Loki shakes his head, then places his spellcraft ingredients aside in favor of crossing his arms and staring up at his brother through dangerously slitted eyes.

“You act as though what we share is common. As though you can treat it like yet another gift that is to be handed to you on a silver platter as you have the rest of your pretty little conquests,” he hisses, far more angry than Thor has seen him in a long while. “No. That is not what we share. So I devised a way to ensure my place. No more than that.”

“Loki…” Thor blinks, then stares incredulously at his brother. “What are you saying?”  
“I am not a whore for you to use whenever you see fit!” he shouts, sending his chair tumbling backwards as he rises abruptly. “It’s time you learn that your actions have consequences and if the Allfather refuses to do so by his own means, then I’ll have to make do with mine.”

Thor swallows, bile rising in his throat as his stomach twists itself into knots. His left hand rises instinctually, flattening over his abdomen.

“Speak plainly, Loki,” he says, low. “Please.”

At that, his brother’s features twist into something far more ugly. “I believe congratulations are in order, brother. Asgard always has spoken so highly of the prospect of the chosen son’s heir, after all.”

His stomach untwists violently and Thor knows he has scarce minutes before the bile will demand an exit. 

He runs, Loki’s words echoing in his ears even as he collapses to his knees at his own basin, emptying his stomach into its concave shell. When the heaving abates, he slumps against the nearby wall, one hand curved protectively over his abdomen.

While still flat and hard with muscle, he is painfully aware that it won’t be so for much longer. The spark of life rests beneath his hand now, placed there by Loki’s will and not a small amount of his own desire to have his brother near him always.

It is not the idea of bearing a child that sets his stomach churning, but rather the way in which Loki has foisted it upon him with no warning or explanation, merely a convoluted way of expression a tangled mixture of possessiveness, jealousy, and perhaps longing.

He can’t say what the true motives driving Loki’s actions are, but he hopes those might be among them. 

Perhaps he can atone for his transgressions through this. Perhaps he can make it so the child doesn’t have to be born out of hate.

+++

Two months later and Loki has still not deigned to pay him much more than passing glances in terms of attention.

Thor smoothes his tunic down his front, pausing a moment to rest his hand against the subtle curve of his belly. He began showing a number of weeks ago, and the gentle swell has only become steadily more noticeable.

His hips ache constantly, and he knows that they are shifting, widening to make room for the child that grows within his body. It isn’t something he ever though he would experience in his lifetime, and he finds himself at a loss of how to describe it.

The morning sickness has passed, thankfully, and he finds himself ravenous even more frequently than he was before this new chapter of his life began.

After Loki’s reveal that night, Thor had immediately sought an audience with the Allmother, knowing that not only is he severely ill equipped to be raising a child, but he hasn’t any idea how a mother is supposed to weather these long months.

He confessed his state to Frigga, only to be greeted with that distantly knowing smile that she wears when her sons are being purposefully stubborn. She reminded him that such a thing is not to be dealt with lightly, and he now bears the responsibility of earning back Loki’s rarely given trust. The child is not a tool, not something to be treated like a weapon to be used against each other. It is part of them and as of now, will one day sit on the throne of Asgard.

Now, months later, he lies amongst the furs on his bed, legs splayed as he attempts to alleviate the persistent aching of his joints.

Frigga had assured him that his body would adapt and adjust properly, given time. His brother’s sorcery and willpower had given him the child to begin with, and his own self is not completely without magic, despite his ineptitude for the practice of those finer arts.

Thor slips a hand between his legs, two fingers pressing curiously into the soft folds that have made an appearance in recent weeks.

His inner muscles clench around the intrusion and he hisses between his teeth, unprepared for the novelty of the sensation. Still, he forges onward, using both fingers to spread the lips apart. His cock, previously flaccid against his thigh, gives an interested twitch and begins to harden.

Soon enough, his fingers are soaked, allowing him much easier passage. Thor arches his spine, bearing down on his fingers as though trying to relieve an itch that is slowly consuming his entire body.

Several harsh curses later and his inner muscles clench rapidly around his fingers, an orgasm like he’s never felt washing over him from head to toe. Thor pulls his hand from between his legs, then slumps back against the pillows, breathing hard until he manages to recover.

As his heart rate calms, he places a hand on the swell of his abdomen, made sickeningly aware that he is alone in this, and Loki has made no signs of wanting anything further to do with him until he manages to atone for whatever slights beyond the ones his brother accused him of that day.

His eyes sting, but he refuses to give into that urge. Instead, he turns onto his side, one arm curled protectively around his middle while he tries to find his way to unconsciousness.

+++

Thor is six months along by the time Loki deigns to seek him out.

He sits on the edge of his bed, feet planted on the stone floor as he carefully pushes himself upright, one palm curled beneath his swollen belly as he regains his center of gravity.

It’s no longer a possibility to wear anything outside of loose tunics and the soft leggings that he usually wears to bed. His mobility improves as he adjusts to the constant changes, but his belly has swollen to the point of rendering any sort of strenuous physical activity out of the question.

He doesn’t even hear Loki until there’s a quiet snort from near the doorway. Thor swings his head up, blue eyes wide.

“I’ve been asking myself why you didn’t ask the Allmother to get rid of it for six months and I still have no answer,” Loki says, almost conversationally save for the banked fire in his green eyes. “You were horrified by the notion when I told you. So why didn’t you?”

A blinding surge of instinctive protectiveness rocks him from head to toe, prompting him to clasp his hand even tighter to the taut roundness of his abdomen.

“You are more precious to me than anything in all the realms,” he says, measuring each word. “I’ll thank you not to malign _our_ child by thinking so ill of me.”

Loki raises an eyebrow at the cutting tone, but says nothing in reply.

“I would have wanted this,” Thor continues, grimacing as he feels the child shift within his belly, clearly having been disturbed from its rest. “I swear to you, I would have. But why did it have to be like this?”

The child kicks, and Thor is forced to sit on the edge of the bed again, inhaling slowly as he closes his eyes and begs it to settle again. The shifting and kicking is bearable, but not when his emotions are strung as tightly as they are now.

When he opens his eyes, Loki is kneeling before him, eyes wide as he places both hands on Thor’s swollen belly, clearly intent on feeling the child move and kick for himself.

Thor swallows thickly, then looks away, fixing a scowl on the window opposite the bed.

“You love her, don’t you?” Loki’s voice has dropped to a low murmur, a far cry from the scathing insults he’s flung as of late.

 _Her_. Of course Loki would be able to tell, his magic attuned to her entire being. So their child shall be a queen; a powerful sorceress in her own right. Thor nods mutely, though his gaze remains trained on the window. How could he not? She is of their flesh and blood. She signifies everything good that they have ever shared.

Loki is slithering up onto the bed before he can protest, then capturing his lips in a searing kiss that sets all of his nerves alight. 

He can scarcely disrobe quick enough, though Loki’s amused chuckle is enough to prompt a flush over his cheekbones. When he is finally, blissfully naked, Thor eyes his brother carefully, fully aware that his body is nothing extravagant to behold.

The stretched curve of his belly is distortion enough, with the addition of the near-translucent skin making the veins beneath all the more obvious. Still, Loki bends his head, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Thor’s navel. 

_”Mine,”_ he growls, though his smile is all teeth.

He slips a hand between his brother’s legs, and Thor groans as two fingers press between his wet folds. It’s been a while since he’s indulged himself and he can’t help the way that he bears down on Loki’s hand, intent on taking his brother as deep as he will allow.

Still, Loki keeps him on his back, refusing to let him twist or jostle too enthusiastically. Thor’s frustration at being denied mounts, but the fingers stretching him open feel too good to be ignored.

As Loki captures his mouth in a bruising kiss, Thor shudders helplessly, clenching around the probing digits as he rides out his orgasm.

The post-coital haze begins to settle over him, but not before he manages to snatch Loki’s wrist, keeping him pinned to the bed.

“Stay,” he demands quietly, and if it comes out like a plea, then so be it. “Loki … stay.”

For several moments, his brother says nothing. Then there’s the subtle lifting of a shoulder and Loki climbs beneath the furs with him, slinging one arm possessively beneath his swollen belly. 

Thor finds he hasn’t felt this content in years.

+++

They spend time in each other’s company far more frequently over the following months, though Loki is as flighty as always.

Arguments are common, though they rarely escalate beyond a few choice insults that leave both of them stewing in their own wounded pride for several days before circling back to each other.

The sex is liberating, though Loki refuses to let Thor do anything adventurous. For the most part, they enjoy pleasing each other with their hands and mouths. Loki makes sure to insinuate such things when Fandral awkwardly broaches the topic over a sparring round between himself and Sif, and Thor cannot help but laugh along with the other two at their friend’s horribly embarrassed expression.

Still, Thor finds himself most content when he is settled between Loki’s splayed legs, back to his brother’s front, with Loki’s hands cupped beneath the swollen curve of his belly.

It’s already well into the ninth month and he can tell by Loki’s occasional inquiries that he is growing concerned. Thor tells him that there is nothing to fear, and that Frigga told him first-time mothers are often slightly late. Still, that does nothing to dissuade Loki’s ever-increasing vigilance of his health and, by proxy, their daughter’s.

After Loki departs his chambers to fetch his favorite sweetbread from the kitchens, Thor levers himself up from the bed and goes to the windows, one hand splayed against the cool glass as he stares out over Asgard.

He has felt irritable all day, though that’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary. Their daughter had been exceptionally active the previous night, but has remained quite stoic for the duration of the day. 

Still, that doesn’t prevent him from being surprised as there’s a strange tightening in his gut, followed by a sudden rush of fluid from between his legs that nearly sends him to his knees.

Frightened and exhilarated in equal measure, Thor moves back across the room as quickly as he can manage while so heavily pregnant, pausing only once to breathe through what he knows to be his first contraction.

He pushes himself onto the bed, then strips off his ruined leggings, splaying his legs as wide as he can manage. The next contraction takes his breath away; the sensation like that of a vise squeezing down on the distended curve of his belly.

Thor pants heavily, sweat already beading on his brow as the sound of the door creaking open alerts him to his brother’s return.

Loki’s eyes go impossibly wide, but he doesn’t drop the platter he carries and run. Instead, he moves to his brother’s side, clasping Thor’s hand within his own. “How long, Thor?”

“An hour, if that,” Thor grits his teeth as another contraction grips him. “Mother said it can take all night. There is no hurry.”

Loki shakes his head, a fond smile on his lips as Thor recognizes the long-suffering expression. Of course Loki would know these things just as well as Frigga. Thor laughs at his own forgetfulness, then sinks back onto the pillows, legs splayed almost painfully wide.

The night passes in a pain-fogged haze, though Thor remains aware of his brother throughout the proceedings.

Frigga arrives not long after her son, bringing Eir and one of the healing ward’s midwives as well.

It’s only towards the early hours that could scarcely be called morning that the contractions begin accelerating. Thor is wakened from a light doze by a particularly harsh one, every muscle going taut as he rides it out.

“The babe has crowned, milady,” Eir says to her queen, settling herself into the chair at the foot of the prince’s bed, and Frigga nods.

She strides to stand beside Loki, then place her hand on Thor’s sweat-soaked brow. “You need to push, my son. She cannot make her way into the world without your help.”

Already more than exhausted, Thor merely growls and pushes his head against the mount of pillows beneath his shoulders. He turns and offers his brother a weak glare.

“I’m of half a mind to castrate you if this isn’t over soon,” he grinds out, and Loki chuckles, squeezing his brother’s hand. 

“Gained a newfound respect for the mothers of our world, have we?” one black brow arches, and Thor merely blows out a breath, offering his surrender with his silence.

“Thor?” comes Eir’s voice from the foot of the bed. “You need to push, now. She is very nearly out.”

Having delayed the inevitable long enough, Thor grits through the excruciating pain and bears down on this foreign pressure, clenching his abdominal muscles as tightly as he’s able.

“Good, good,” Eir nods, efficient and calm as always as she holds her prince’s legs firmly apart. 

Thor pants harshly, lungs going like a bellows. He places a shaking hand on the swollen curve of his belly, thinking of the child within that shall enter the world in a matter of moments.

His fingers tighten on Loki’s hand, grinding the thin bones together as he bears down on the pressure again. The pain is enough to haze his vision red and he bellows out his hurt.

Then, the pressure is suddenly _gone_ , and Thor feels a second rush of fluid between his legs. Eir and Frigga converge together, and through the fading haze of pain, Thor hears the distant cry of a newborn.

The hormones already coursing through his blood force him to raise his head, immediately searching for his child.

“My daughter,” he says hoarsely, reaching out with both arms. “Give her to me.”

Frigga is smiling fondly at him from the foot of the bed, and surprisingly, Loki is the one who goes to the healer and Allmother. He takes the tiny bundle in his arms, then returns to Thor’s side, delicately handing her over to her mother.

Thor cradles the fragile form against his broad chest, ignorant of the rest of the world save the perfect face of his _child_.

His eyes burn, and for a moment, he panics over the thought of never having her nestled safe within his belly again. But that was merely a temporary cocoon intended to allow her to grow strong enough to venture out into this world. Thor blinks rapidly, ignoring the tears that do spill over.

For the moment, he is perfectly content to stare at the bundle of life that he and his brother have forged between them.

Her head is nearly smooth, save for a fine dusting of raven hair and her skin is a unique mix of both pale and a healthy flush. Her face is unlike any Thor has ever seen. Her eyes are extraordinarily large, and her lips plump enough to affect a delicate pout. She is somewhat strange, but in her strangeness, absolutely beautiful.

Thor turns to his brother, smiling so widely that it hurts, and offers her back to her father.

“What shall we name her?” he asks as Loki takes the small bundle and cradles it against his breast, unable to break his gaze away from his daughter’s face.

Loki is silent for several long moments before offering up a single word: “Hlín.”

“Hlín,” Thor rolls it off his tongue, testing it. It feels _right_. “Hlín it is.”

+++

After a full week’s rest to aid in his recovery from childbirth, Thor joins his brother in the king’s hall for a feast held in their daughter’s honor.

Odin stands at the high table, one eye fixed on the pair as they ascend to meet him.

Thor is the one to hand the babe to her grandfather, though Loki remains watchful and rigid, a coiled serpent waiting to strike should the Allfather make one false move towards the single child he has been allowed to keep.

In spite of the tension, Odin does nothing but cradle his granddaughter against his breastplate with the utmost gentleness, raising Gungnir to herald the arrival of the heir to Asgard’s throne.

The assembled Aesir, warriors and maidens alike, all burst into raucous cheering, fists thrust into the air as they raise their voices in enthusiastic acceptance.

Most of the official business of pronouncing her as the legitimate successor to the realm eternal’s throne complete, Odin returns Hlín to her mother’s waiting arms. He offers a small smile, and Thor can read the hint of pride in his father’s single eye. 

He returns to their table with his brother, their daughter held protectively in his arms.

Thor has yet to return to wearing his armor, given that his body is still recovering from the stress of bearing the child, but he wears an elegant silver and crimson robe that his mother fashioned especially for this occasion. 

Loki, on the other hand, is dressed in his traditional ceremonial emeralds and golds. He seems oddly subdued throughout the feast and entertainment, and whenever Thor tries to catch his eye, all he receives in return is a distant smile, mostly directed at their daughter.

After returning to his chambers following the end of the night’s festivities, Thor allows the wet nurse to take his daughter for her feeding, then pulls his brother aside, moving to stand near the windows.

“You haven’t been yourself all night. What is it?”

Loki snorts, though he doesn’t try to extricate himself from Thor’s grasp. “I thought, at the start of all this, that I’d manage to teach you a lesson. Really, I’m not entirely sure what I hoped to teach you, but I think that lesson has rather turned itself around on me.”

Thor frowns slightly, then softens his hold, tugging Loki’s wrist forward so as to splay his palm against the soft curve of his belly. It is no longer heavy with their child, but the flat firmness of his abdomen has yet to return. 

“You reminded me that my name does not grant me automatic favors. You taught me that taking those closest to one’s heart for granted is a reprehensible crime,” Thor presses Loki’s hand more firmly against his belly, wanting there to be no mistaking his honesty. “I carried your _child_ , Loki. I bore her because she is a part of you and you are what I can never live without.”

In the silence that follows, Loki’s other hand comes up to rest against the curve of his abdomen, then presses closer, seeking out Thor’s mouth for a lingering kiss.

“You love me, don’t you?”

Thor snorts quietly, then silences his brother for a moment with another kiss. “That is a foolish question.”

“And yet I would have the answer from you all the same,” Loki plies with a slow-growing smile.

“Yes,” Thor states firmly, leaving no room for argument. “I gave you cause to doubt it with my carelessness and for that, I am truly sorry. But never again. You have my word.”

“I have your word?” Loki quirks an elegant brow, then smirks against his brother’s lips, pressing closer still. “Would you bear me more children, to prove that word? I think you would.”

Thor shivers lightly, envisioning himself reclining languidly in his own bed with his back against Loki’s chest, his belly heavily swollen with child yet again, their hands laced together over the stretched curve in a promise of centuries to come.

“Yes,” he answers yet again, storm-blue eyes bright in the faint light of the room. “And when we pass this world on to them, they will reshape it yet again.”

His brother laughs softly, the sound trapped in the small space between them. “Fool you may be still,” Loki says with a startlingly genuine grin. “But you are _my_ fool.”

Thor rests his brow against Loki’s, unable to restrain his own smile. “Aye,” he agrees. “As you are mine.”

From across the room, there’s a quiet cooing sound, followed by the nurse’s gentle hushing. They both glance over, only to find their daughter staring at them from her current perch in the nurse’s arms.

“Thank you,” Thor inclines his head respectfully as he goes to the pair, then relieves the nurse of her burden. “We shall call for you when she has need again.”

The nurse smiles, then touches her prince’s forearm, inclining her head in reply. “Of course, milord.”

Thor cradles his daughter to his breast, then returns to his brother, carefully placing her in her father’s arms.

Full and obviously content, she makes various cooing sounds before latching onto the collar of Loki’s robe with her tiny fists. He blinks in mild surprise, then strokes the pad of his thumb across her skull.

“She is beautiful,” he says quietly, as though awestruck.

Thor snorts, but says nothing, choosing instead to tuck himself against Loki’s back, his chin on his brother’s shoulder so they can both observe their daughter.

“Of course she is,” he replies easily, tightening his arms around Loki’s waist. “She is yours.”

It’s Loki’s turn to give a disbelieving snort, but he relaxes minutely, allowing Thor to take his weight as they both watch their daughter wave her tiny arms and try to reach for them.

They meet each other’s gaze for a moment, smiling tiredly. Perhaps this wasn’t the most well planned gambit, but they have both reached the end of this chapter relatively unscathed. 

Their daughter is safe, their relationship has begun healing, and Asgard has welcomed them all with open arms.

For now, all is well.


End file.
